


Tales with Tails

by Hexim



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-22 23:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexim/pseuds/Hexim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a modern world, Haytham and Connor are still smitten with animals. In all honesty, it makes their family life a little more fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. snips and snails and puppy dog tails

**Author's Note:**

> In which Haytham gets Connor a dog and Ezio is endlessly amused by his own employees (he hired them for entertainment only).

Connor did volunteer work at the Auditore shelter on Mondays and Fridays, three to six in the afternoon after school was finished. Which was why Haytham strode into the shelter at ten in the morning, not a hair out of place and expression fixed into a smooth, indifferent one. The employee seemed to be busy doodling on a blank piece of paper and didn’t seem to notice the older man until Haytham was standing in front of the desk and clearing his throat. Only then did the employee look up, a grin lighting up his face when he caught sight of Haytham’s face.

“You’re Connor’s old man, right?”

It was a pity how much human intellect had suffered under the younger generations obsession with video games and the internet. If this young man had spent less time watching screens and talked to some actual people instead, his thick Italian accent wouldn’t have been as noticeable.

“I supposed I must be, considering I had an appointment at ten and it’s now…” Haytham checked his wristwatch, a single eyebrow climbing up as the seconds ticked by. “…three past ten.”

The employee just laughed and vaulted over the front desk without further ado, ignoring the way Haytham had to take a hasty step backwards to avoid being smeared by the dirt clinging to the young man’s shoes. A small brown dog followed the employee, the collar indicating that he belonged to the employee.

“You’re exactly like he described you. Looking as uptight and rigid as the old Queen herself. You sure you didn’t want an appointment with him around? He knows which dog would have suited you better.”

Dear Lord, the employee possessed as much charm as a drunk Hickey. He was too loud and too obnoxious for Haytham’s tastes. But he’d heard about the Auditore’s choice of employees, they tended to be strays themselves, picked up from the streets by the founder himself. It was no wonder that Connor enjoyed being with these people, he often acted like a stray cat himself.

( _Your son_ , the letter had read, old and yellow in Haytham’s hand, _got stuck in a tree today. He saw one of your old videos and is now trying to imitate you. You are missing out._

Haytham regretted every year that had passed without him meeting his own son.)

With a sigh, Haytham motioned for the employee to lead the way. If the man insisted on acting like Hickey, it would be best to treat him like that. “I am not here to get an animal for myself. In case you were unaware, his birthday is tomorrow.” Haytham saw no reason to elaborate, especially not when he caught sight of the widening grin spreading over the employee’s face. Instead, he walked faster.

The sooner he could leave this place with a dog, the better.

Through a door they went and another, past the cats (which Haytham would have vastly preferred. They were quiet and self-sufficient and less needy than any dog Haytham had ever encountered) and to the kennels, most dogs outside in the warm April weather.

“These are our older dogs,” the employee said before whistling sharply on two fingers. A wave of barks answered the sound, raising in volume until it was a mess of barking and the sound of breathing and Haytham wondered if he could get away with telling the employee to go back to the desk again. Or somewhere he’d cause no trouble. He didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish.

“On the left we have Sugar and Spice.” Two happy Maltese dogs were standing near the fence, short little tails wagging away, barking in a high pitched noise that already grated on Haytham’s nerves as much as the employee did.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look around by myself. I want to see them all in a safe environment before deciding which ones I’d like to have a closer look at.” Haytham’s tone was as polite as the smile he wore he let Charles grumble and complain to him. It conveyed the same ‘Please stop’ vibes.

Apparently, the employee could read between the lines and with a nod, he turned around to leave.

“You got it, Pops! Come on, Curls.”

Finally, the older man was alone. With the still loudly barking dogs. And the smell of dog breath.

Haytham needed to have words with his son’s employer about the people he took in. They were obviously in dire need of learning some respect.

Now a lot calmer, Haytham started to wander along the fences, stopping and studying every single one of them. Most of them were in good health, some had gone blind from old age already, their snouts white and their steps shaky but Haytham could still see the enthusiasm they carried in their hearts. When there wasn’t a sign forbidding it, he stuck his hands through the bars and let them lick his fingers and to pet their heads.

It was only unfortunate that they were so old.

As with most cases, Haytham wanted a young dog for his son. There was a single reason for this: He wanted Connor to spend a long time with his dog. He wanted it to be worthwhile, to watch them grow close and older together. Old dogs, friendly as they were, did not meet the criteria. They would die too soon and another loss was not what Connor needed.

Not so soon anyway.

So Haytham, after petting all the heads pushing against the fences, after talking to every dog that came to him in a low voice, moved on. The younger ones were further back, running along, falling all over each other, wanting to play and chase and sleep all at the same time and yet accomplishing very little. When they caught sight of Haytham, they tripped over their paws as they raced towards him, yipping and barking and full of life. They pressed themselves against the fence, sniffed at his fingers and tugged at the hem of his sleeves, one or two licking at his hands until they were coated in loving dog slobber.

This was what Haytham was looking for. Young, unrelenting potential.

Every single one of the young dogs was inspected, every single one petted and checked for injuries or handicaps. And it just so happened that the brown dog, the one with a pink nose and warm, dark eyes and missing the left hind leg, caught Haytham’s attention. She was as enthusiastic as her peers, with the same wet nose and the same happy dog smile. But she as the one who insisted on pressed her nose against his hands and came back every time she was shoved away. She waited patiently for her turn again and again, barely making any noise and just quietly wagging her tail.

Haytham barely managed to hide his smile.

“She’s Connor’s favorite.”

Haytham nearly jumped out of his skin and only years of learning restraint and patience kept him from whirling around and punching Ezio Auditore in the face.

The man looked as unreadable as always, hair graying at the temples and hands hidden in the pockets of what had once been a white, now gray jacket. His back was still ramrod straight and his relaxed stance was betrayed by the positioning of his feet.

Once upon a time, Haytham had worked with Ezio’s father. They hadn’t parted on the best terms and when Connor told Haytham that he had gotten the volunteer job at the Auditore shelter, Haytham had quietly sighed and resigned himself to further interaction with a family he had preferred to avoid.

“She seems like she would make a fine companion.”

A smirk spread over Ezio’s face and he pulled out a leash from one of his pockets. He was like a wolf that had smelled blood and wanted to go in for the kill.

“Do you want to take her for a walk?”

—

The front door slamming shut noisily was all Haytham needed to know about Connor’s mood.

“Take off your shoes before you get dirt all over the floor.” He didn’t even bother raising his voice, his son’s stomping ceased almost immediately, followed by the noise of two shoes hitting the floor. Haytham quietly asked himself when Connor would learn to not wear his emotions on his sleeve.

And to put his shoes away properly.

Then Connor poked his head into his father’s study, eyebrows drawn together. He looked slightly worse for the wear, as he usually did after spending an afternoon outside, playing with dogs of all ages. Right now, his lips were pulled back into a thin line, obviously conflicted about something.

Haytham turned the page of his newspaper.

“You look as if you had a bad day.”

Huffing, Connor moved the rest of his body into the room and leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, a tightly knit ball of emotions. A wrong word and he’d blow up. They had both done this dance often enough to know each other’s body language by now.

“…Someone adopted Aquila. I know—” Connor raised a hand as if to ward of any scathing words Haytham might attempt to throw at him. “—I know I should be happy for her. They told me she was in good hands with her new owners but I still wish…”

“Wishes are for children, Connor. Besides, I think you’ll find she’s not far away.”

Connor gave his father a funny look before shaking his head and pushing himself away from the door frame to make his way towards the kitchen. His father was as cryptic and unreadable as always. Just for once in his life, it would have been nice if he had shown some sympathy, some sort of interest.

A few heartbeats later, loud barking filled the air and Connor made a surprised noise before he started laughing.

Satisfied, Haytham hid his smile behind the newspaper.


	2. the kittenbury tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor finds an abandoned kitten in the park. Haytham does not enjoy discovering that his son brought it home.

It all started with autumn rain and Connor’s dog refusing to leave the pile of leaves alone. Aquila was usually an obedient dog, listening to Connor’s every command with a happily swishing tail and a bright eyed doggy smile. But the wet leaves appeared to bring out a side of her that Connor’s calm voice or even his sharper tones could not control.

(and really, Connor loved seeing his dog happy and playful, enjoyed watching her roll around in leaves and dirt, three legs kicking as content snuffling filled the air)

Connor, naturally, went to investigate why his dog was so smitten with the pile of dirt and leaves. Aquila kept walking circles around it, barking and prodding her nose against the pile until Connor crouched down next to it, pushing the grass and leaves aside to find out what had gotten his dog in such a tizzy.

A pathetic little peeping noise was all the encouragement Connor needed to start rooting through the pile faster, nimble fingers raking through the mess until he felt something small, wet and furry beneath his hand. Gently, he pulled the animal out and squinted at it. It was a kitten. A shivering kitten who was peeping pathetically, no less. The eyes were open but the ears still small and close to it’s head so Connor placed the age somewhere between two and three weeks.

Connor glanced around. There was no mother cat in sight and he knew that he shouldn’t just pick the kitten up if the mother cat was possibly still around but…

Aquila pressed her nose against the kitten and gave it a long, loving lick before turning to give Connor an expectant look.

Sighing, Connor resigned himself to his fate, placing the kitten gently under his hoodie and cradling it close to his chest for additional warmth before picking up Aquila’s abandoned leash and starting to make his way home.

—-

Surprisingly enough, it hadn’t been that difficult to sneak past Haytham, who had curled up in the living room, probably marking papers or reading a book. If Connor didn’t know better, he would have thought that Haytham could smell guilt from miles away but he was either too distracted or him having a keen nose was superstition.

Connor suspected the latter.

Stealthily, he took the leash off Aquila and let her leave muddy paw prints everywhere while he made a beeline for the bathroom, placing the kitten on the counter to take a good look at it. It was dirty, gritty and shivering, Connor’s hands huge in comparison as he ran a finger over the kitten’s back, a barely there rattling noise escaping the kitten as is butted it’s head against Connor’s finger.

Cold as it was, it had enough energy left to demand affection.

Smiling, Connor turned on the sink’s faucet and water until the water was warm but not too warm before placing the kitten under it, watching the dirt go down the drain. The little kitten was peeping angrily, little legs kicking in all directions until the kitten got too tired and stopped struggling, letting Connor wash all of the dirt out.

After the young man was certain that all of the dirt had gone down the drain, he turned the faucet off, wrapping the kitten in a towel, mind already racing ahead on feeding schedules and warm places and vet appointments.

He knew he’d be able to call up Leonardo who would probably squeeze him in between appointments on the very same day. The kitten didn’t seem to be injured, nor dehydrated if slightly malnourished. And the malnourishment could easily be fixed, if the small animal would accept the bottle.

—-

Three hours, two feedings and a vet visit later, Connor was lying on his back, kitten curled up on his stomach, snoozing away. The little one had fortunately been as active as a kitten of his (for Leonardo had given the kitten a full exam and told Connor that the kitten had been a lucky guy indeed) age could be before doing what every exhausted and worn out young being did: Crashing and sleeping.

The small paws were twitching in the kitten’s sleep, the chest steadily rising and falling and Connor methodically ran a finger over his back. Connor had worked with young animals before but it surprised him again and again how tiny they were, how fragile. Compared to his own hands, the kitten was tiny, it had been easy for Connor to scoop the kitten up and hold him in only one hand.

He was so transfixed by the kitten that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until someone knocked on his door and pushed it open without waiting for an answer.

“Connor, when are you planning on cleaning up of the paw prints your dog left all over the house—?”

Haytham froze.

Connor looked like a deer caught in the headlights, hands stopping their affectionate motions in mid-air. The kitten made a protesting squeaking noise and ceased kneading Connor’s shirt with his paws.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then Haytham placed his arms behind his back and narrowed his eyes at the display.

Connor knew that if his father could pronounce his native name properly, he would have said it right then, right there.

“Would you like to explain this to me, son?” The tone was deceptively calm but the younger man knew that this could very easily change. And it probably was going to change. Soon, if he didn’t come up with an explanation.

“He was alone and it was raining.”

On the inside, Connor winced. The was clearly the most foolproof explanation he had ever come with.

“I do not oppose your love for taking care of strays at the shelter, Connor, because you are enjoying yourself and are doing some good. I let myself be irrational and found a dog for you, perhaps living in the foolish delusion that you would focus your energy on more… productive things. Instead I find that you’ve taken in a kitten who is probably underweight and going to die in the next few days.”

The tone was cold and hard and made Connor bristle, eyes narrowing as he gently lifted up the kitten and placed it on his pillow.

“More productive things? Are you saying that taking care of animals is not productive and that I should find something else to do in my afternoons? Perhaps work for you and your friends, bringing you coffee and copying papers for you? I would hardly call that productive, father. I am doing something for these animals who have been abandoned. What would you have me do, throw him back out? He is too young to survive on his own and Leonardo said he is healthy enough.”

Connor’s voice was nothing like his fathers calculated, controlled one, he was snapping at him, loud and filled with protectiveness.

“Oh, that’s what you say now. But what will you do when you have to get up every few hours to feed him? You won’t be able to sleep through the nights. Have you also forgotten about your dog? Aquila requires attention as well. I did not get you this dog so you would abandon her at the first chance you got.”

At this, Connor leaped up and strode over to Haytham, hands clenched into fists.

“I am not abandoning Aquila! It will not be difficult to spread my time evenly and I am well aware that I won’t be able to sleep as restfully as before. But I will not abandon this kitten and nor will I bring him to the shelter, they are already overrun by stray cats and their young ones. Please, father,” Connor said, resorting to his least favorite action: Pleading with his father. “I will take proper care of the kitten and Aquila both and neither of them will bother you.”

“You are unreasonably stubborn about this,” Haytham sighed but then the wrinkle between his eyebrows disappeared as he relented. “But very well. You may keep the cat until it is old enough to go to a new home. I don’t want you to waffle around and try to find a way around it, this cat will not stay with us. Have I made myself clear?”

Connor’s shoulder slumped in relief and he nodded. This was better than nothing. On the other hand, he doubted his father would have made him abandon the kitten. He simply would have made Connor find someone who could take the kitten in and raise it instead.

“Very clear.”

With a final, unamused look, Haytham turned around and went to head downstairs.

Connor glanced over his shoulder towards the kitten and smiled. Sleepy kitten eyes seemed to look back at him before the kitten got up to explore the bed on unsteady legs.

The little one would be safe for a while. Now he’d only need a name.

(Two months later, Connor found Chaucer curled up on his father’s lap, purring up a storm as careful fingers petted soft fur. And that settled the matter of finding a forever home.)


End file.
